Category Archives: healing

Women’s Joy Circle: the wanting

Flaming June.

I brought a lot away from the radical pleasure workshop I taught March 30th with the inimitable Briana Schuck and the incomparable Laura Alvarez. The ringing one-liner, though, the kernel around which last night’s joy circle crystallized, was something Briana said about the difference between a want and a desire.

When you want something, you are aware of a lack.  You are bemoaning what isn’t.    There is a gulf between you and what it is you want.

I wrote this song in the throes of want, languishing in an unhealthy relationship and confused about what I really wanted.  The misery of wanting is downright audible!

When you desire something, however…ahhh.  You feel it in your body.  You come alive with the tingling sensation of desiring this beautiful thing.  You luxuriate in the knowledge that it is already in you.  And you celebrate every time you see what you desire, because the fact that it exists at all just lights you up.

Last night’s joy circle was a celebration of desire.  We ate the lavender-infused truffles I keep going on and on about (because they are THAT GOOD) and sipped kombucha and rose petal tea.  We did a lot of yoga.  We turned off the lights, lit candles, and had a sweaty no-holds-barred dance party with the delicious help of Modest Mouse, Florence + The Machine, MC Yogi, and Garmarna.  And then we settled in with our notebooks and wrote down our desires.

When you write down a desire, it should feel really, really good.  Your whole body should come alive.  Here’s an example:

“I desire an exquisite, handbuilt earthen cottage set into acres of gardens, overflowing with light and scent and flowers.  I desire built-in windowseats with bookshelves for curling into on a rainy morning, and an airy kitchen with space for all of my drying herbs.  I desire a little bathroom with large, light-filled windows and a clawfoot bathtub surrounded by blooming scented geraniums and dozens of varieties of lavender.  I desire gardens that contain cherry, raspberry, peach, plum, sea buckthorn, goji, jojoba, hawthorn.  I desire winding paths through my acres of medicine herbs and food forests that end at a year-round creek that supplies my little home with abundant microhydro energy, a cool place to submerge and swim in summer, a quiet place to meditate in winter.

I desire to share this beautiful space by hosting earth-centered events, exuberant parties circling on the wheel of the year, counseling circles,  healing herbal gatherings and permaculture courses.”

Wow.  That feels so good, just writing it again.  So different from wanting it...desiring it, feeling it, sensing it already there.  It’s a joy to desire something.  It’s agony to want it.

Knowing what you desire is an immense boon to those around you. Taking the time to write down your desires, in great detail and specificity, gives all of your tumbling tumultuous creative energy a locus point.  And in time, you become so comfortable with what it is that you really, truly want that you recognize it when it comes.  You make the choices that lead you to it.  You tell everyone you meet about the fulness of your desires and they voluntarily enlist in helping you achieve them.

Because our deepest, truest desires are for the things that lead us home.  And when we are home, creating what we were made to create, living the life that lights us up, we are doing the best good we are capable of.

9 Comments

April 10, 2013 · 3:14 am

where we touch earth

Healthy feet of an 11-year-old girl who regula...

I’ve been musing lately over the relationship between our treatment of our bodies and our treatment of the earth. For many of us, our bodies are the only animal we have close contact with each day; they become our exposure to the natural world, the  only wild landscape we inhabit.

Yet think of our bodies:  we work them, groom them, put chemicals on them; we sanitize them, remove some parts, and inject foreign substances into others.  If we take the time to think of them, it is with frustration or dislike.

If there is a locus point for this analogy, it is the soles of the feet–where we touch earth.  I love the biblical story of Martha and Mary.  As Martha bustled around, righteously busy, Mary ignored what I imagine was a lot of passive-aggressive sighing and carrying on, and focused on sensuously bathing Jesus’s feet.  When Martha complained, Jesus stuck up for Mary, essentially stating “she’s got her priorities straight!”

When we really think about it, where has all of our righteous busy work gotten us? Would we not be better served to slow down and bathe the feet of those we love, tend the places of connection, honor the hard work of these bodies, these landscapes?

I’ve been building gardens lately, spreading compost and decomposed leaves and layering bark into pathways.  I take great pleasure in doing this work barefoot, the warming soil of spring beneath my feet.  At the end of the day it is hard to tell where the earth ends and my feet begin.  Last night, after dancing contra barefoot, I returned home and set the water on to boil.  I scooped a little sea salt and honey into an empty lemon peel, then used the peel to carefully scrub the soles of my feet.  When the water boiled I poured it into a mason jar filled with fresh rosemary, let it steep, then added it to a basin of warm water and slipped my salt-and-honey-coated feet in.  I sat there for several minutes, letting the rosemary tea work its magic, feeling so grateful.  For everything.

peel

This is a recipe I have used with great effect in my workshops; tending people’s feet tends to bring them right into a state of receptive openness for whatever comes next.  To tend your feet or those of a loved one, here’s what you’ll need:

-Mason jar filled with fresh rosemary, lavender, calendula, or rose petals (dried is fine; you’ll need about 1/2 cup)

-Boiling water

Pour the water over your herbs and leave to steep for several minutes. Strain, and add this strong tea to a basin of warm water.  Add a tablespoon or so of baking soda for especially tough callouses, and a few drops of essential oil if you like (rosemary and lavender are both wonderful.)  Have a towel ready near the basin.

-empty half of a citrus peel

-2 tbsp. dead sea salts

-1 tbsp. raw honey

Place the honey and salt in the cup of the peel; use it as a washcloth to gently exfoliate the skin of your feet over the basin of tea.  Place your feet in the basin and continue to wash them with the citrus peel.  Relax.

10 Comments

April 8, 2013 · 2:20 am

our darkness is divine

English: Persephone kidnapped by Hades.

English: Persephone kidnapped by Hades. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A few years ago I heard herbalist Deborah Frances use sacred stories to describe the rhythms of living in a female body. She spoke about the underworld journey of Persephone, and the plants whose medicine specifically strengthens women who go on that journey. I have been pondering this ever since.

Continue reading

2 Comments

March 29, 2013 · 4:45 pm

a letter to my dearest friend

English: Love Letter

Recently I received an acrimonious letter from a person who has been a great teacher (read: tremendous pain in the a**) in my life.  As I was composing my reply, carefully choosing each word, deleting many entire drafts, it struck me how much time I have spent communicating with this individual.  Hours upon hours: deliberating over how, and whether, and with which medium I should communicate.  Days: reading his poison-pen diatribes over and over, taking each painful word deep within.

And I thought about how I dash off letters to my friends–fragments of sentences, sometimes omitting both my name and theirs, when I remember to write at all.  I suddenly recalled a handwritten love note sent to me years ago, still tucked carefully away in the secret drawer of my desk.  When had I last read it? Continue reading

8 Comments

March 22, 2013 · 12:48 am

Women’s Joy Circle: Arousal

It starts with her beauty in my eyes, it moves...

Ooh, arousal.  It has such a sexual connotation, doesn’t it? And yet it’s important to specify just what type of arousal we’re talking here.  Arousal of the nervous system–the fight-or-flight response–is the opposite of sexy.  When the nervous system is aroused, stress hormones get dumped into the bloodstream, halting digestion, cutting off blood supply to the extremities, and eventually suppressing the immune system.  Great when you need to wrestle a mountain lion off your back, but not so hot on the lion-skin rug, if you know what I’m saying. Continue reading

5 Comments

March 20, 2013 · 3:09 am

New stories

thiking

1.  I used to think I was a flake.  Now I know that people called me that because they couldn’t handle my constant creativity.  Now I revel in my flakiness: hug strangers, hand out kisses on valentine’s day, break out dancing in the aisles of the lumber store.

2. I used to think my weaknesses defined me. I hid when I was sad or ashamed.  Now I know that it is my strengths that define me.  When I dwell in my strengths, I lift everyone around me. The weaknesses are there, yes, but they just aren’t that important!

3. I used to think my periods of depression were unhealthy.  Now I know that as a woman, I naturally flow through periods of introspection and vision, periods of action and joy.  When I feel sad, I call a friend instead of hiding. When I feel tired I go inside and dream. Continue reading

19 Comments

March 16, 2013 · 1:59 am

a dark quiet room, with tea.

The young mother

except she’s on a metro bus and she’s exhausted, terrified, and broke

In the early days of my young motherhood, when my marriage was falling apart and life was an unending cycle of wailing and washing and vomit and sleepless nights, I used to dream of a special room for mothers.  In that room, time would stop.  There would be endless, quiet hours of darkness and unending cups of warm tea.  In that room I would rock, and rest, and recharge against the chaotic and ceaseless cycle of my life.

I was so taken with this image that one night, sitting around a sacred fire with a squealing baby on my lap, I shared it.  No sooner had I spoken than a young woman I’d never met before burst out: “I know that place!”  She quickly blushed and silenced herself, but after the fire she approached me and she told me of a Korean spa she’d discovered, a place that for a small entrance fee entitled one to soak in warm mugwort baths and sweat in a salt sauna and sip endless barley tea and nap on a warmed jade floor.  We set a date, I cashed in numerous babysitting favors, and when the day came I found myself in motherhood mecca.

I had never been to a spa before (I had walked past buildings labeled  ‘day spa’, but they were so far out of my realm of experience that I vaguely thought they might have something to do with eyebrows.)  My new friend led me into a steaming room filled with laughing naked women. I spent six hours sweating and soaking and scrubbing and sleeping on the jade floor and writing in my journal, and my life was changed forever. Continue reading

7 Comments

March 14, 2013 · 2:27 am

Impetigo and Vulnerability

An Ikea garlic press, with pressed garlic.

My four-year-old son has transformed overnight from flaxen-haired charmer to disease vector. It’s not pretty. For those of you lucky ones who do not know (oh, I was in your happy ranks but yesterday!) impetigo is a bacterial skin infection, highly contagious and common in the preschool set, that generally presents as weepy, crusted sores around the mouth and nose.

The typical treatment of impetigo is antibiotic ointment, followed by a cycle of oral antibiotics if the ointment doesn’t work. This is where we run into trouble.

I don’t like antibiotics. Bio is life, right? Bio is the good guys! I’m PRO Bio, I’m pretty sure, not anti. Continue reading

3 Comments

March 10, 2013 · 4:06 am

when it’s all torn open

Sorrow

There are days when the magic is flowing, pleasure is abundant, good work comes easily, and all is right with the world.

But for all of us, there are times when the beauty of life seems to flee and we are swallowed up in deep, defeating pain.  Sometimes the pain seems insurmountable and all-encompassing, the weight of getting through it too heavy to bear.  We may have lost a partner, or a job, or a child, or done something that feels unforgivable; sometimes there is no apparent reason and the pain just rises up to consume us.

I wrote earlier about waltzing with medusa, but to be honest sometimes it is less of a waltz and more of an eviscerating body-slam.  You can take St. John’s Wort, sure, or soak in a valerian bath, or better yet take a long walk somewhere beautiful.  But this kind of pain is not something that can ever be fully addressed with external remedies.  This pain comes from inside. It comes from the core of who you are, and if it is to be healed, it will be healed from the inside.

How? Lying there with your heart clawed out, unable to move or think, how can you possibly begin to heal? Continue reading

11 Comments

March 8, 2013 · 2:29 pm